No, no, officer. Wait right there. I do hope you’ll forgive me for keeping you waiting. Before you tell me why you’re here, let’s just take a moment. I thought I heard a knock but wasn’t entirely sure. I was…occupied. Cleaning up a little mess in the kitchen. But now that I’ve opened the door, what seems to be the trouble? Or perhaps---how delightful---there’s no trouble at all. Not for me, at least. My life is a pristine, trouble-free zone.
You, on the other hand---have you looked in a mirror lately? Positively glowing.
Oh? The dress. I see your eyes lingering. Hard not to, isn’t it? I’m wearing mother’s dress today, and I’ve never felt more alive. You really ought to try it, officer. The fabric is exquisite---a featherlight satin that clings like a lover. It doesn’t just cover you; it caresses you. A quiet, golden power seeps into the bones, filling spaces you never knew were hollow.
No, it’s not my dress---don’t be ridiculous---it’s hers. Is that a problem? Are you going to arrest me? For what? For stepping into beauty? For finding myself?
I know what you’re thinking. People love to sneer at men in dresses. They clutch their pearls, whisper about normalcy---decency. But where is that written? Is it etched in stone, handed down from some trembling mountaintop? Is it in one of the books of lies that skipped the Nazi burn piles? An ancient text saying the earth was flat and burning witches made crops grow? Because let me tell you something, officer---those books, even the Bible, were all written by men. And men get things wrong. Often.
But then we open up our eyes.
“All I ever wanted was freedom…why did I wait?”
This isn’t just fabric you know. What I’m talking about is liberation. When I wear it, the world shifts on its axis to accommodate me. The air tastes sweeter. The ground is softer beneath my feet. I’ve never walked taller. And you---you, officer---what’s stopping you? Imagine slipping into something with a little shimmer, a little swish. Something like this. Maybe with some lipstick, something bold and luscious. What shade would you choose? Something vibrant and tested only on the most brilliant, sophisticated chimpanzees, their tiny faces radiant, painted with blush and mascara–with enlightenment. If you’re gonna go, go all in! Am I right?
Can’t you picture it?
This dress, these pearls---they belong to mother, but they’re mine now, too. They belong to anyone brave enough to step into their power. Anyone can wear a dress, officer. Man, woman, both, neither---Something untethered and golden---like the yolk of a freshly cracked egg. Life comes from eggs.
Mother always said: there’s more than one way to crack an egg…
Do you dream, officer? I dream often. I dream of towering stilettos---seven inches high---no, eight! Strutting through the aisles of the grocery store, turning every head and breaking every heart. You know I would too…if I had a shopping cart, I’d make it fashion. I’d push it like I’m on a Milan runway, tossing cans of soup in like they were roses from adoring fans.
You mean to tell me I’ve been depriving the world of this opulent derriere for my entire life? An injustice! A tragedy! Why, it’s a crime against humanity! I wept. I sobbed. This ass was sculpted by angelic hands, divinely appointed for this very dress. The Vatican should recognize it as a holy relic. Forget the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel---get on your knees and have a look at this!
No. No. Don’t do that. I could show you…oh, I could. Maybe? Just a little preview? A glimpse of the divine? Sneak peek of paradise?
Mmm…no. I shouldn’t. We’ve just met. And what would Mother say?
Besides, I wouldn’t want to ruin you. Not yet.
I have other dreams too: I dream of a picnic in the park, watercress sandwiches under the sun.
I dream of living---truly living---without fear, without shame, without restraint. Do you? Do you dream of liberation? Of feeling the world yield to your authenticity? Or to you is it just another word? Liberation. Liberation isn’t just a word; it’s a reckoning.
Do you dream of walking into a room and not shrinking---expanding? Can I ask you, have you ever done drugs, officer? If you’ve done drugs, officer, you should really try this instead. I’ve done drugs---don’t arrest me---and I’ve done this. Now that I’ve done both, I can say with absolute certainty: drugs are illusions---this---this is real. More powerful than any high.
Exhilarating.
It’s reality turned up to 11.
I understand your hesitation. I felt it too---before the dress. Before I found myself. It’s not just clothing. It’s transformation. It’s stepping into a version of yourself you never knew existed. It’s shedding the weight of expectations like a shawl and discovering you can fly.
I can see it in your eyes---you want to understand, don’t you? A man in his mother’s dress. There’s a flicker, a glimmer of curiosity. That’s where it begins. Curiosity is the gateway to freedom.
But you wouldn’t understand, would you? No. Not yet.
What’s that? Why am I wearing the dress? I told you---I’m wearing mother’s dress because she gave it to me. Her final gift. She told me I could have it. “Take it, darling,” she said. “Take it all. Take whatever you want!”
It was the last thing she said.
Her last gift to me was permission. Permission to embrace myself. Permission to be unafraid. And now, here I stand, wrapped in her final words. Her dress. Her pearls. Not because I have to---but because I choose to; and officer, that’s the secret.
It’s about choice. It’s about walking into the world as the most audaciously, unapologetic version of yourself. It’s about breaking every rule that tries to break you. And the people who made them? You break them, too.
I can feel you hesitating. I told you, felt it, too---before I slipped into the silk, before I slipped into myself. It’s terrifying, isn’t it? That first step? But after that, the world becomes yours.
So no, officer,
No–no. Keep your hands right where they were. I’ve already cleaned up one mess today. Don’t make me clean another.
I really don’t want to. But I will. We both know that, don’t we?
I won’t stop wearing it. I can’t. Don’t you see? Not now or tomorrow; not ever. All I had to do was take a leap of faith. As it falls around you for the first time you realize: it’s not just a dress. It’s freedom and if you’re brave enough---and bold enough---it’s all yours. I’m telling you, you could feel this too. Trust me. You’ll see. Once I put it on, My God! I’ve never felt more alive!
Now.
Come inside.
That wasn’t a request.
I see the irony of all this, I really do---it’s almost funny, isn’t it? Freedom, up here, for your mind. Enlightenment. That’s what this is. It’s just a shift in states---how you see the world and then how you see yourself. We always think that taking the first big step toward change is a threat. But look at me! Look at me now. I’ve done it. I am proof. You can be too.
The first step is the hardest, but it’s how everything begins. You just have to take the first step. Then the next. And look at that---you’re already inside. See? You’re doing it! Doesn’t it feel exhilarating? Each step afterward gets easier. I promise.
Aren’t you happy you’ve decided to embrace this---to let me show you? Don’t worry. You will be. Right this way. Keep going. Can’t you feel it? Each step you’re physically getting lighter. See, I wasn’t lying. Your true freedom awaits.
Mother’s closet is just upstairs.
You won’t believe what she’s been hiding.
It’s a treasure trove. An actual goldmine.
Wait till you see.
When you do, you’ll literally die.
